


Always Be A First Rate Version of Yourself

by KittyCasMeow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Coping, Dark Beasts Master Draco, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healing, Love, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Luna Lovegood owns a tea shop, M/M, Mild Self Harm, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom & Draco Malfoy Friendship, No Beta, Not Beta Read, Other, Plant Shop Owner Neville Longbottom, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Romance, SLYTHERIN REDEMPTION ARC, Slow Burn, Slow Burn but they're totally in love, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyCasMeow/pseuds/KittyCasMeow
Summary: Draco Lucius Malfoy is not a vulnerable person. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, he doesn’t ask for help, he doesn’t reach out to others. He keeps to himself, relies on no one and cares about nothing. However, when he avoids Azkaban jail time, he finds himself piecing himself back together to the person he's always wanted to be.Harry James Potter has always been fueled by adrenaline. Even if he doesn't want to, his heart is on display. He clings to everyone around him as a lifeline - afraid that at any moment anyone could be taken from him. However, when the war ends, he finds himself on a downward spiral trying to find the true Harry, - outside of Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore.So when Harry makes a reckless mistake on an Auror mission and gets bitten by a Werewolf - Draco Malfoy is the only one with enough knowledge to get him through his transformation. (More inside)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Slight Blaise Zabini/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, my updates are going to be a tiny bit infrequent and a little erratic. I live in an area that has been affected by COVID that continues to open and close, open and close, open and close - so my updating could potentially be constant or distant just depending on my work and school and stuff. So I'll do my best, but I just recently rewatched the Harry Potter series and reread the books because like - what else is there to do right? 
> 
> Also, I just feel like writing some Drarry will help me cope. (: I have so many different open works in so many different Fandoms and I'm updating them all - so just hang in there and stay with me! 
> 
> As far as the werewolf stuff goes, it's less of the focus and no real A/B/O Dynamic, and more of a plot point. 
> 
> Also anything dirty or smutty will be given with a warning and can easily be skipped.  
> We're aiming for maybe ten chapters? Idk. Let's just try it - work with me here. 
> 
> Review lots so I know that it's worth continuing, okay?
> 
> Please review, let me know what you think. Everything is un beta'd so please be kind!

Draco Lucius Malfoy is not a vulnerable person.

He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, he doesn’t ask for help, he doesn’t reach out to others –

He keeps to himself, relies on no one and cares about nothing.

When the war is over, his family is tried and punished. Lucius and Narcissa are sentenced to ten years. The trials and testimonies take an entire day to reach their verdicts and Draco spends an extra night in his holding cell. When he learns of his parents’ sentences, he detaches. They’re all going to rot in a jail cell and even if they do get out, they’ll never be the same.

The Malfoy name has been disgraced.

And Draco forces himself to care less.

So when it’s his turn, shackled to a chair that is impossibly uncomfortable, he’s ready for whatever they want to throw at him. It’s his fault that the famous Albus Dumbledore is dead.

It’s all his fault.

He’s therefore incredibly surprised when his sentence is reduced to a conditional probation. They sentence him five years of community service to be started after a redo of his final year at Hogwarts. When they reach his verdict and help him to his feet he freezes. “Why?” He can’t help the venom that drips from his voice.

He stares at the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He’s wearing brilliant purple robes, the lights from above reflecting off the detail of his cap. He’s sporting a frown as his dark eyes trace over Draco’s features. “Someone spoke on your behalf.” His voice booms in the eerily silent chamber, and it’s only then that Draco realizes that none of the council has uttered a word. “They pleaded your case.”

There’s a tug on his chain and he pulls back. “Who?”

“Harry Potter.”

A harsher tug has Draco stumbling away from his chair before he rights his stance and follows the Auror ushering him away. They’re putting out the parameters for his parole, but it sounds like a low buzzing in his ears because of course. Of course, perfect fucking saint Potter comes to his rescue again. Draco’s burning question is why.

Why would Harry fucking Potter vouch for him?

“ **Mr. Malfoy**.” A sharp voice brings him back to reality. “Are you paying attention?” He blinks a few times in response noticing the Auror for the first time. He’s got jet black hair, sprinkled white on the sides, frown wrinkles on his forehead and a scathing look on his face. Draco opens his mouth to respond when the Auror shoots him a filthy look. “Pathetic.” He spits causing Draco to snap his jaw shut with a click. “I can’t believe Mr. Potter would even dignify you with a testimony. A disgusting death eater like you.” Draco clenches his jaw to keep from talking. “As I was saying, the parameters of your parole are as follows. You will be attending Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry from home.”

“From home?” He cocks an eyebrow.

The damn Auror looks like he wants anything else in the world, but to answer Draco’s question. “Yes, from home.” He spits. “You’ll receive your school work each month, due at the end. For any practical lessons or exams such as potions, you’ll use a floo network from your home at Malfoy Manor to the headmistress’ office to take the exam.”

“Oh.”

He scoffs and continues. “Once you’ve finished your work at Hogwarts, you’ll be mandated five years of community service, to be determined at the end of your studies.” He smirks, and Merlin, does Draco wonder if all these years he’s looked that angry, that evil when he has that smirk on his own face… “Oh how the mighty Malfoy name has fallen.” His chuckle is low, dark. “One last thing. During your community service, you are to have no contact with either of your parents. If any contact is reached, you will be sent straight to Azkaban.”

Draco swallows the lump in his throat. “Anything else?”

Merlin, this Auror looks like it’s Christmas. “No. Let’s finish your paperwork and you’ll be escorted back to your home.”

**-[]-**

A Ministry worker, this one nicer than the Auror, escorted Draco back to the manor. “Well Mr. Malfoy,” He grabbed a handful of floo powder from a small pouch attached to his wrist. “Don’t disappoint us, and remember that the spells you perform will be tracked.” He reaches for a handful of powder when a thought occurrs to Draco.

He throws the powder, green flames erupting before stepping in. “Wait a second! My wand is…” His voice trails and echoes against the empty walls of the manor. He wanted to tell the bastard, that he had no want, but - he drops his outstretched hand to his side and turns around.

The manor has always been massive, big ironclad gates leading to the yard, albino peacocks grazing in the grass outside. The inside and outside of the home are painted in drab grays, whites and blacks, gold fixings on the lights and metals. The entryway has high ceilings and deep chandeliers. There are six rooms upstairs, three bedrooms, an apothecary, his father’s office which he’s never been allowed in and a small library. Downstairs holds the kitchen, the grand dining hall, the small ball room, a sitting area and of course the dungeons. He shutters as memories of Luna Lovegood and Ollivander flood his brain.

He thinks about Luna, a broken ankle and a cut above her left eye. He remembers sneaking to the dungeons at three in the morning, bringing tea and food for the two prisoners. He remembers wrapping up Luna’s leg, the muggle way and concocting a potion as perfectly as he could to help curb the pain. He remembers dropping to his knees, tears streaming down his face when he sees the fresh cut above her eye.

_“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I **can’t** do more. Merlin, I **want** to do more, but I just – I can’t – I’m not strong.”_

He remembers the comforting hand on his back, the soft voice near his ear. _“It’s alright, Draco. Everything that happens is meant to happen. It’s going to be okay.”_

He remembers wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve, a hollow laugh in his throat. _“Of course it will.”_ His voice cracks. “ _We all know perfect Harry Potter is gonna win in the end._ ”

He shutters at the memory and pushes it away because no. It’s just because he’s cold. 

The Malfoy Manor has always been cold and he hates being here, but he’s on house arrest and there isn’t much to be done. He makes his way through the dining room stepping on broken glass and making his way around the chandelier. It looks very much like the day the Golden Trio broke out of their home with Luna and the wandmaker - like everyone just picked up and left. He weaves in and out of the rubble and he feels a stinging at the corners of his eyes.

During the war, the manor housed many of Voldemort’s important followers and he gets chills thinking about it. The serving staff and house elves were let go the moment Voldemort crossed the threshold and a surge of pride hits him when he thinks about how quickly his mother sent them away for their safety.

He feels a pang of hurt in his chest, because Merlin, his parents don’t deserve this… maybe his dad does, but his mom –

He shakes his head. Best not to go there.

He swallows thickly and heads to the front door, unlocking it manually and letting it swing open. A handful of packages and letters topple onto the rug. “Shit.” He swears as he bends down trying to pick a few of them up. Most of them are addressed to Lucius and he is one hundred percent just going to throw them away, but there’s a box that’s new – no wear and tear on it like all the others and it’s addressed to him. It’s a long thin box, and there’s a small note folded and taped to the box with his name on it. He unfurls the note and his heart thuds in his chest.

_Thank you._

_H. P._

He tucks the note in his pocket and opens the box - surprised to see his wand.

**-[]-**

He spends the next two months leading to the beginning of the school year relearning his wand and piecing the manor back room by room. When he’s finished, he locks the dining room doors and places a sticking charm so the doors won’t open again. In fact, he does the same upstairs, locking half the doors leaving only the apothecary, library and his own room and bathroom available. Downstairs it’s just the entryway leading into the sitting room and kitchen open – locking up the ball room, the dining room and dungeon. He learns plenty of house cleaning spells, that he can easily do without a wand now, as well as a few basic cooking spells.

Even though he doesn’t go anywhere or see anyone, he still keeps himself together as much as he possibly can.

Until the day it all comes to a head.

Draco Malfoy refuses to look at the dark mark on his arm, choosing to pretend it doesn’t exist. He bathes at night by a lumos spell only, and doesn’t turn on the actual lights until his long sleeved shirt is on.

It’s an accident really. He’s washing dishes with a spell when an owl taps at the kitchen window, startling him into unceremoniously dropping a pot in the sink it was floating above. Soapy water sloshes over the sides, drenching his torso in water.

“Dammit.” His voice is hoarse and realizes this might be the first time he’s uttered a word in almost a week.

He opens the window and lets the owl drop the letter on the table, realizing that it’s his Hogwarts school books list. _Of course._

He darts upstairs to change his turtleneck. He pulls it over his head and drapes it over the tub when his reflection catches his attention. His breath stutters because there it is - the snake and skull just as dark as the day he got it.

When he got his wand back, he tried to remove the mark for a week before finally giving up. He panics and utters a fire incantation on his forearm. The result is immediate white hot pain, the smell of burning flesh. His vision starts to blur, and someone is screaming – wait _he’s_ screaming.

“ _Aguamente.”_

The fire is out and the skin is red… shiny…angry, but beneath the burn marks, the Dark Mark sits just as prominent as ever. He feels himself spiraling out of control. He can’t breathe. The skin is starting to blister over and _fucking Merlin_ does it hurt.

He takes big gasping breath. _Push it down, push it down, push it down._

He thinks about his father’s horrible decisions.

About his mother in Azkaban.

All of this – all the loss, the pain, the heartache – it’s his fault.

He gave the death eaters a way in.

He helped kill Albus Dumbledore.

He stumbles into the apothecary, knocking over corked ingredients searching for a few empty bottles. His mind screaming,

_Detach. Detach. Detach._

When he finally finds one, it’s small and slender, the size of his pinky finger. He touches his wand tip to his temple and gently drops down several darker memories, removing them from his mind and locking them away. He sighs at relief because he finally feels it.

_Detached._

It takes another week for the burns to fully go away, and he does nothing to get rid of the scars. He ties the vile to a chord and wears it around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt.

Their his burdens to carry… his burdens alone.

He copes by breaking everything in his room.

**-[]-**

The school year passes in a blur. He keeps in contact with the four Syltherins that managed to head back to Hogwarts – _Blaise, Pansy, Goyle & Nott _ \- and they even have special permission to come to the manor by floo to work on school projects.

Mcgonall reminds them, “ _You’re technically all of age, and all adults. Who am I to stop you?”_

He learns that most of the Gryffindors have returned a few of the Ravenclaws such has Luna Lovegood and Cho Chang as well as a few Hufflepuffs.

What surprises him the most is that the famous, Harry Potter, has also chosen to do his studies from home. Well sort of from home. It hits the papers just after Harry’s eighteenth birthday, that Viktor Krum, former seeker for Bulgaria and current headmaster of Durmstrang, recruits the Boy Who Lived as Bulgaria’s new seeker.

They’re in the sitting room, the fire warm and comforting as they relax in cushioned sofas and chairs. “You’re joking.” Draco sips at his tea absently. “Hard to believe Potter would trade a year at Hogwarts to play Seeker.”

Blaise shrugs disinterestedly. “Potter’s always been a bit thick, but you can’t deny his skill as a seeker. How did you not know? It’s been all over The Prophet.”

Draco thumbs as the string attached to his teabag. “I stopped reading the Prophet when they referred to the Malfoys as ‘Scum of the Earth who shouldn’t be allowed to walk amongst normal humans’.” It gets quiet after that. “The article about me being a walking Death Eater is particularly scathing.” Subconsciously he tugs at his jumper sleeve.

That night he tries a spell he hasn’t heard in years. “ _Sectumsempra._ ”

The Dark Mark still doesn’t go away.

**-[]-**

When school is over, Draco Malfoy runs into two problems. One is finding a job that is willing to work around his community service. And two is finding a job period, because although he scored N.E.W.T. marks second only to Hermoine Granger, no one is enthusiastic about hiring a Death Eater.

Even though the Malfoy fortune runs deeper than nearly another other ancient pure blood wizard family, Draco isn’t exactly keen on staying in the manor any longer. He slides on a pair of fitted black slacks, or at least they _were_ fitted – he _has_ lost quite a bit of weight - a white button up, an emerald green tie, and a black tailored blazer. He wears the Malfoy crest on his cuff links and tie and apparates to the first place he can think of, Knockturn Alley. The streets are empty and he makes his way into Diagon Alley, hoping to the blend in with the crowd.

He takes in his surroundings and is pleasantly surprised to see that most businesses have managed to rebuild and start again. There are a few he is unfamiliar with and, damn does the Weasley’s joke shop sign, hit you right in the face. He’s in awe of the giant red headed mannequin sitting at the top of the building when he hears a hushed conversation.

“Is that Draco Malfoy?”

“The Death Eater?”

“No way, it couldn’t be, right? He’d never show his face here.”

Draco darts in the closest building to him, shutting the door and blocking out the noise.

Deep breaths. He’s here to clear his head. He takes in his surroundings and realizes he’s in a plant shop, that’s attached to a small tea shop and bakery. There are a lot of foreign plants and potions ingredients that he immediately can’t wait to get his hands on. Thank Merlin, he got so much of his gold out today. He’s fiddling with a small plant that opens and closes as he turns it in and out of the sunlight, and he knows that this will help fight a wizard’s cold when a surprised noise comes from the counter.

“Oh!” A light chuckle. “I didn’t realize I had a customer. How can I help… _Malfoy_?”

He turns around and freezes. Neville Longbottom is standing on the other side of the counter, a dirty apron on as he wipes his hands on a small hand towel. His hair is cropped in a nice swift cut, his smile just as goofy as ever. He’s wearing an argyle sweater and tan pants, his white trainers squeaking as he shifts his feet. “ _Longbottom?_ ” He can’t hide the disbelief in his voice.

Neville flashes him a grin. “As I live and breathe. Gosh, it’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

Draco refrains from reminding him that the last time they saw each other, they were both covered in blood. “It has.” He finds himself answering instead. Longbottom is still looking at him in awe and the Syltherin shifts the weight on his feet uncomfortably. “Yes, well I should go-,”

That snaps him out of his trance and Longbottom shakes his head. “No wait! She’s been hoping you’d turn up! I told her to just write to you, but she seemed pretty confident you’d turn up in Diagon Alley eventually. Hang on a sec.” He darts from around the counter and moves into the kitchen in the back of the tea shop.

Draco briefly wonders if he should make a break for it, when out comes Luna Lovegood. “Draco.” She breathes. His eyes widen and she surges forward wrapping her arms around his middle and giving him a tight squeeze. “I knew the Nargles would eventually leave your head and you’d come back to us. Although,” She squeezes tighter and releases him, holding him an arm’s length away. “You are rather thin. Are you eating enough? Neville,” She guides him to a table and forces him to sit. The man appears behind the counter. “Can you bring Draco and I some coffee cake and tea?”

“Sure, dear.” He calls back.

Draco taps his index finger on the table uncomfortably. “Are you guys-?”

“Together.” She answers simply. “I’m happy to see you.”

“Why?”

She studies him and tilts her head. “I owe you my life. You fed me, you protected me as best as you could from that Peter Pettigrew fellow. You even lied to your father and performed charms to make it look like you had beat me instead of letting him do it. I never got to thank you.”

He feels himself breaking and he hates himself because Malfoy’s don’t cry. Malfoy’s don’t fucking cry. “Luna,” His voice breaks and he drops his elbows to the table burying his face in his hands. “I’m no hero. I could have saved you, I could have gotten you out of there, but instead I let you suffer-,” He takes in a sharp breath and tries to steady himself.

He hears Neville return and let out a small noise. “Looks like we’ll be here a minute. Let me close the shops.”

Draco sniffs. “No, please. Don’t do it on my account.” He shakes his head, and lifts his head. “Why are you being so kind to me? Longbottom I _tortured_ you in school, and I’m just – I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to – to,”

Longbottom shakes his head as he waves his wand, closing the curtains, flipping the signs and locking the doors. “Please,” His face is serious. “We all lost so much after the war, and if – well if Harry thinks you don’t deserve Azkaban – I trust his judgement. Plus, Luna’s always been adamant that you’re a good person. So… Let bygones be bygones?”

Draco shakes his head slowly. “I just, I can’t,” He runs a hand, musing his hair. “You shouldn’t talk to me, you shouldn’t even -,”

Luna wraps a hand around his wrist to pull it away from his face. “Draco, please. You’re a friend.” She gently holds his hand in hers and sets them on the table. Neville pulls out a chair from another table and sits beside her.

“It’s good to see you.” He encourages.

**-[]-**

They never do reopen the shops that day as Draco Malfoy opens himself up to - and Merlin no one would believe this - _Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood_. His voice is hoarse from talking too much and he didn’t realize how hungry he’d gotten until he actually had some of Luna’s pastries.

It's been a long time since he’s allowed himself something flavorful and indulgent. He’s used to eating to survive.

He’s just voiced his concerns about a job and finding a place to do community service when Luna lights up. “Well since you’re not hurting for money, I’d wait a little longer and let yourself settle into community service.” She clasps her hands together. “And I know just where to go for it!” She pauses. “George Weasley.”

Draco’s eyes widen. “Are you mad? If anyone wishes I were rotting in Azkaban, it’s the Weasleys.”

Neville shrugs. “It’s not the wildest idea she’s had. I mean you _have_ met her, haven’t you?” He chuckles and places a hand on Luna’s shoulder. “George is a dad now. He’s a little softer than he used to be. You might be alright if you plead your case and you’re honest with him.”

“Yes, well -,”

The door above the plant shop tingles and Neville frowns. “Who could that be? I could have sworn I locked it, unless it’s one of the gang…” His voice trails as he rises and heads into the adjoining shop.

“Draco.” He draws his attention back to Luna. “Please, promise me that you’ll at least _ask._ ” She reaches across the table and gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

He returns it and tries to give her a smile that he’s pretty sure ends up like more of a grimace. “Alright. I-,” He gives her a resolute look. “-I – I can try.”

“You know,” She slides her hand away from him and looks at him thoughtfully. “We all did wonder just where you’d gotten up to when we went back to school. I heard that you were doing homeschool and Pansy told us you were alright, but – it didn’t stop us from worrying. When Harry came for a visit he explained it was for your own safety.”

He frowns. “My safety?”

She seems to hesitate, but Draco has always admired that Luna’s never been one to shy away from anything but the truth. “Yes, Harry seemed to think that without him there, people would pick on you and hurt you. So when he got the letter from Krum he insisted that you be on independent study as well.”

He cocks a perfect eyebrow at her. “He was afraid he wouldn’t be there to protect me?”

She giggles lightly. “That’s just the Harry Potter way, isn’t it?”

Draco smirks and takes a sip of his tea. “Perfect Saintly Potter, huh?”

“Malfoy?” He winces at the shock and lifts his gaze to the voice. There’s a stutter in his chest, because it reminds him so much of Harry Potter. But when he flips around, there’s an older scruffy looking man standing beside Neville. His hair is shaggy, hanging in his face and he’s wearing a pair of large black, square rimmed glasses. He’s got at least a week’s worth of stubble on his face and he’s wearing a baggy black sweatshirt, and a pair of worn jeans with holes in the knees. He shifts his trainers uncomfortably under Malfoy’s gaze and he wonders why this man says his name with familiarity – he’s at least ten years older than them.

The presence of a stranger alarms him and sends his anxiety spiking. He slides out of his seat, tucking it in after him and flicks some invisible crumbs off his blazer. “Yes, the one and only.” He answers defiantly, his nose turned up to the air. “If you’ll excuse me.” He bites as he heads for the door.

Luna calls after him. “Come back soon, okay? And please eat more! You’re too skinny.”

He gives her a small smile. “I’ll try. Thank you Luna.” He nods to her boyfriend. “Longbottom.”

And he exits the café, apparating the moment he’s on the sidewalk.

**-[]-**

The conversation with George Weasley goes as well as Draco expects. The twin is older now, crows feet at the corners of his eyes, and a slight bulge around the middle. He’s wearing a lavender suit, the pastel complimenting his flaming red hair, and an unimpressed look on his face. His brows are knitted together and he practically snarls. “I don’t know what Neville and Luna mean by asking me to come speak with you. But I want to hear from _you_ why I should care a wink about helping you with your community service.” Draco turns away and taps at the table a few times.

“I’m sorry.” He admits as he watches a few of the plants on the shelves in Neville’s shop start bickering. “I know my family has been nothing, but horrible to you, and I can’t even begin to make up for the things I’ve done to you all.” He frowns. “But I refuse to let the way my father has viewed pure blood wizards to rule my life any longer. I want to atone for all the wrong I’ve done. I want to fix all the things that _can_ be fixed and all the things that can’t -,” He swallows thickly when he thinks about Fred Weasley. “I want to right them in some way.” He finally looks up at George’s face – his expression still dark. “I went to his grave you know. I left some flowers.” There’s a pause before he continues. “Columbines… _foolishness_ , and some lilacs… _youth_ and some Southernwood… _jest._ I’ve doused them in a potion that will keep them from dying. I just – I can’t-,” He turns away and swallows thickly. “I’m sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

A few minutes pass in tense silence, Draco’s eyes tracking the vines of a few plants shifting around the shop. A bubble of laughter distracts him and turns his head to see George running his fingers through his hair. “This is mad, you know? Draco Malfoy is leaving _symbolic_ flowers at my twin brother’s grave.” He chuckles again, slightly hysterical. “Absolutely mad.” He shakes his head and lets out a shaky sigh. “I can’t believe this is happening, but I,” He swallows. “-alright. You can help with my charity organization. I’m sure Luna explained it to you.”

He nods once, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yes, I – she did. You guys find underaged muggle born wizards and witches in abusive homes and help them understand their powers. In some cases, you even help rehome them, correct?”

George blinks a few times and lets out a breathy laugh. “Yes. But I can’t, I’m sorry. It’s just – Draco Malfoy helping me, George Weasley, run a charitable organization for muggle born wizards. You know this is insane, right?”

Draco just shrugs. “It is.” He admits.

George studies him a second and lets out a heavy sigh. “I – alright. I’ll help you.

“You will?” Draco lights up.

“Wait until I tell Ron and Har-,”

“No!” His outburst causes George to jump. “Sorry, I just – no. Please. If it’s alright, I’d just like to keep it between the two of us and the Ministry of Magic.”

George studies him a second. “Alright, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's second year into his five year sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a slow burn, but hoping to make some headway in ten chapters! Finger's crossed!
> 
> Slight alcohol use, but that's sort of it. No real warnings for this one.

For the next two years, Draco Malfoy finds himself frequenting Neville and Luna’s shop. Most of the time he’s alone, with a book in hand, enjoying a cup of tea on a couch in the corner, eyes barely flicking up to meet the barrage of visitors that come through.

He finds that he’s safest if he goes unrecognized, so he rarely lifts his gaze to meet any of the other patrons. He notices a few alumni come through, Chang, Granger and the Weasel which has him lifting his book so high in front of his face,(he knows he looks ridiculous but he refuses to let them see him there), but what shocks him most is Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan entering the tea shop hand in hand.

They reminisce with Neville, cracking a few lewd jokes that has the shop keeper blushing furiously begging them to stop while they roar with laughter. It’s strange. It both warms his heart and causes a painful clench when he sees Seamus stretch up and kiss Dean at the corner of his mouth, muttering about how tall his boyfriend just _has_ to be.

He thinks about his own life, his own well guarded… _preferences._ Of course all of his friends know – Pansy, Gregory, Theo and Blaise – in fact he remembers being pleasantly buzzed on fire whiskey, Blaise’s tongue shoved so warm and messily down his throat and – oh Merlin, it’s so hot in here… he has to stop thinking about this.

He retreats in on himself, deeper into his book as he pushes down the thought about how Blaise just seems to be aging like a beautiful perfect wine.

When Dean and Seamus leave, he calls Neville over to him. “Err… Longbottom?”

“Hm?”

“I – uh – I had no idea that the two of them were a couple. I – I’m surprised,” And he adds. “-in a good way to see how um – supportive you all are.”

He seems a bit shocked. “Oh? Yeah, I mean I guess I never thought about it, you know? Love is love. We were all a little… caught off guard… and it definitely made a lot of um,” He blushes. “ _-memories_ about the two of them so much more mushy and gross.” He laughs. “But they’re happy, so we’re happy. Well,” He chuckles again. “Except Ginny. That’s two of her ex-boyfriends now, and she’s um… _not_ pleased.”

He ignores that last part, because he has no idea what it means but he clears his throat steeling himself for his confession. “I um – I am too you know… I prefer – well I like… oh dammit. I’m also gay.”

Neville gives him a smile. “I know. Luna told me.”

He frowns in confusion. “But I didn’t…”

He shakes his head. “Of course you didn’t. But Luna has knack for this sort of thing. I just believe her now, ever since… well,” He looks a little uncomfortable. “You know… she said same thing about…”

No, Draco has no idea what he’s talking about, but the poor guy looks so incredibly uncomfortable he just nods his head. “Of course and um, thank you Longbottom…Neville.”

**-[]-**

Sometimes, Draco even finds himself helping Neville with a few of his trickier plants and concoctions. Neville huffs in frustration. “I’m just – I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong, Draco.”

Merlin, it’s still so weird to be on a first name basis with _Neville Longbottom._

“It’s alright. I think the plants are fighting each other because they’re not used to each other’s scent.”

“Scent?” Neville’s brows knit together as he studies the small plant. “I don’t understand. They’re the same plant.”

Draco reaches out and extracts some of the venom from the base of the small angry silver flower. “Right but, often times with creatures such as cats, dogs, centaurs, werewolves, thestrals – they have what is referred to as scent understanding. Two unfamiliar cats will often times get into rows because they find each other unfamiliar and threatening. The plants,” He extracts some venom from the small angry gold flower. “-the plants feel the same. It’s simply a matter of introducing them properly.” He takes the venoms and injects each stem with it’s opposite. It takes a few minutes, but soon the silver flower is blushing shyly while the gold one opens up it’s flowers, shaking them haughtily.

Neville lets out a small laugh. “Wow, that’s absolutely adorable.”

Draco still has half a vile of venom for each one. “Mind if I take these back home to study them?”

“Of course not. It’s the least I can do for all the help you’ve given me.” Neville places the plants next to each other on a shelf nearby – colors glittering in the sunlight. “How did you learn so much about magical plants creatures? I can’t remember you being particularly enthusiastic about taking Hagrid’s class.”

Draco looks away, his features darkening. “I – um – when Volde – my dad -,” He takes a bracing breath. “During the war our home hosted many different types of supporters of the Dark Lord.” His voice drops and he’s speaking quietly. “It often fell on me to care for the… less than savory characters.”

His mind shifts back to Fenrir Greyback and he shuts his eyes tightly. “Oh.” Neville’s voice is quiet. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s alright. It’s – it’s probably good to – to get some of this stuff out. Helps with all the anxiety and stuff, right?”

“Oh! Speaking of which – Luna’s feeling a lot of anxiety again. Do you mind brewing some of that other potion?”

Draco smiles. “Of course not, Nev. I’m happy to know it helped.”

**-[]-**

Over the course of two years, he rarely crosses paths with the older gentlemen from his first day. He bumps into the man a few times as he heads into Neville and Luna’s shop. They catch eyes and each time the stranger opens his mouth, searching for something to say… but each time he snaps his mouth shut and gives a curt nod and enters the shop instead.

A few times when Draco is perched on his favorite squishy couch reading a book, he catches the stranger talking to Neville animatedly – asking questions about his friends, his grandmother, about him and Luna. But Draco finds that he never actually _learns_ anything about the stranger himself. His answers always short and curt and as soon as Neville realizes he has no intention of talking, he quits asking and instead they switch to sports, politics, the ministry and Draco goes back to his book.

He _does_ however know that the older man is a complete an utter mess.

Although who is Draco to judge.

There _have_ been a few times that said stranger has stumbled in drunk, messy, belligerent, angry – and if he ever catches Draco’s sight he looks like he’s about to break even more. On those days, the blonde finds it’s best to make a quick exit.

One night after the tea shop closes, Luna’s music plays loudly from her handheld. She’s humming pleasantly, whisking about the room. Draco places his book in his satchel about to put it on when she glides his way, picking up his hands and twirling him around the room.

“Luna-,” He admonishes before a particularly dramatic twirl.

Neville laughs. “She’s in a mood!” He warns as he continues chatting to the older man he’s been tossing back drinks with for the better part of an hour.

He rolls his eyes with not bite behind it and adjust his arms to continue dancing with Luna. “What’s got you so happy, hm?” He smiles curiously.

“So many things!” She sings mysteriously. “One being that Neville and I have finally gotten engaged.”

He cocks an eyebrow as she spins him. “Oh?” He spots the sparkling ring on her finger and hugs her tightly. “Congratulations.” He releases her and spins her around.

“Mhhm,” She hums thoughtfully. “And I was hoping you’d be my maid of honor.”

He stops altogether, lifting a hand – casting a spell to stop the music. “What?”

She frowns. “Oh! Well I guess my man of honor… although that doesn’t sound as pretty -,”

“Luna.” Draco swallows thickly. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.” She cocks her head. “Why?”

“Luna.” He flounders, mouth open. “You can’t have a Death Eater at your wedding.”

Neville’s chair slides back and he steps to Luna’s side, a frown on his face. “ _Ex_ Death Eater. Draco it would mean so much to us to have you there.” His eyes dart between the two of them. “You are no more of a Death Eater than I am.” Neville insists. And before he knows it, both Neville and Luna have him in a bone crushing hug.

He blushes scarlet and pushes them away. “Alright, alright, alright…” A small smile curls at his lips and a hum from their older friend catches his attention.

He’s got an elbow on the table, a cheek resting against his closed fist and something about him looks… _younger_ than Draco remembers. There’s a pleasant flush on his face, probably from the alcohol and he’s slouching comfortably in his chair. “You know,” His voice rumbles. “You’re quite beautiful when you smile, Malfoy.”

Draco blushes even deeper and pushes down the warm and pleasant feeling he gets from hearing this from his strange companion. He opens his mouth to retort when Neville blocks his vision casting a spell to see the time. “Right. You’ve had enough to drink – ah – James. Come along, let’s get you situated in the flat upstairs.”

Neville ushers away… James, and Draco turns to Luna. “I’d be happy to be your Man of honor, Luna.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Neville and Luna getting married. Someone draw me Draco Man of Honor art <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are picking out a candle for this slow burn (: 
> 
> Chapter is a little shorter than usual. Hang in there!

It’s shortly after his third year into community service that Draco meets Samuel, Samuel Scamander. Samuel is scrawny, with strawberry blonde hair, face splattered with freckles and a small thin frame. He’s wearing a worn blue coat and he pulls it up as he enters the shop to shield himself from the biting cold. Draco is currently working out Luna’s wedding plans –

_“Seriously, Luna – you were engaged forever and you finally picked a date and made it less than a year from now?”_

_She shrugs. “I was **inspired**.”_

_“Oh for the love of Merlin, Lun!”_

…When Samuel Scamander plops down in the seat across from him. He stops his writing and glances up, furrowing his eyebrows together. “Um. Hello?” He hesitates, he’s never sure when he’s about to be attacked. He slowly closes the journal he’s been writing in. “Can I help you?”

The boy across from him is no more than two years older than them. He blinks his bright blue eyes a few times. “Actually, yes, please.” He darts his hand out. “I’m Sammy – Sammy Scamander.”

The blonde hesitantly accepts the hand. “Draco. Draco Malfoy.” He declares proudly.

Sammy nods. “Right. Neville told me you’re the guy to talk to about potions and creatures.”

Draco cocks an eyebrow. “Are you by chance related to-,”

“Newt Scamander?” Sammy nods again. “Yes, I am. He’s my great grandfather. Studying magical beasts sort of runs in the family. I’m head of the Regulation of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. There are a few rogue Thestrals that are injured and I can’t figure out what potion to give them or how to help them. Neville says I should talk to you.” He sounds slightly exasperated.

Draco frowns and shifts in his seat. “I’m not sure-,”

“Please.” Sammy gives him a serious look. “I don’t care who you were – I just,” He looks stressed as he runs a hand through his messy strawberry locks. “I just want to make sure my creatures are okay.”

Draco nods once. “Of course, let me see what I can do.”

He spends the next few months getting to know Sammy and is surprised when the goofy strawberry blonde tells him about a position opened in the ministry. “I think it would really help. You should apply.”

Draco shakes his head. “I don’t think they want a Death Eater-,”

“ **Ex** Death Eater!” Neville calls from the store room in the back causing Draco to shake his head.

“Fine, _ex_ Death Eater working at the ministry.”

Sammy takes a large gulp of tea, smacking his lips together. _Merlin, the kid has no tact._ “You’re what – three and a half years into your sentence. You’re twenty-one and haven’t stirred up any trouble. They can’t possibly find you threatening anymore.” He snorts. “Besides, the guy who’s in charge of Potions study for St. Mungos and the Department of Law Enforcement is a joke. He’s hardly worth something to bat an eyelash at.” He takes a sip, taking out the last of his tea. “Plus, with glowing testimonies from myself, Luna, Neville and George – you’ll easily get hired.”

Draco bites his lip uncertainly. “I don’t know…”

“It doesn’t hurt to submit your resume.”

So, Draco does.

__**-[]-**

Occasionally he brings a Slytherin or two with him in the shop. Today it’s the guys, Greg, Blaise and Theo… They’re talking quidditch and he zones them out, until he hears a familiar name leave their lips. He knows that talking about… about Potter makes him uncomfortable, so they tend to stray away from any topics regarding him and Luna and Neville do the same. Draco Malfoy refuses to set eyes on the prophet. If it’s not something about how amazing the Chosen One is, it’ll be something about how disgraceful the Malfoys are.

“…I heard Krum is a little upset, but Potter is pretty adamant that he’s done.” Theo’s voice flits over to him.

“Really?” Greg takes a sip of his tea. “I can’t believe it. Retiring from Quidditch at twenty-one. All because of an injury.”

Blaise chuckles. “Rumor has it, the Weasley girl hit him off his broom pretty hard on purpose. Still a little pissed about the breakup I guess.”

His ears perk up. Break up? He thought for sure they’d get married and have ten little ones running around the house before thirty. Merlin knows that’s how the Weasleys operate. Greg shrugs. “Anyway, I guess he’s retiring and Krum is pretty bummed. He’s really taken a shine to Potter. They’ve really reformed the Durmstrang school and Krum is absolutely enamored with the guy.”

Blaise takes a bite from his scone and shrugs. “I heard he’s bisexual. Wouldn’t be surprising if he were trying to stick it to Potter.”

They share a laugh that Draco doesn’t join in because it’s odd – thinking about Harry Potter like –

Nope. Absolutely not.

He takes a bite from his own small muffin and taps on the table impatiently. “Draco?” He turns his gaze to Blaise. “You’ve got a bit of-,” He reaches out and brushes a crumb from his cheek causing the blonde to flare up because well, Blaise is handsome and funny and sweet and kind and - 

“Um – err, thank you. I’ve gotta – um - get to – to community service.”

He’s not entirely sure he’s ready for anything romantic.

**-[]-**

So for nearly three and a half years, Draco lives in his happy bubble of community service, reading books, and drinking too much tea. He vaguely thinks he might have to reopen a room in the Malfoy Manor to find a place for all the books he’s collecting. He’s got his close knit group of long time Slytherin friends – Greg, Theo, Blaise & Pansy. He’s got new friends Luna and Neville – and Sammy Schamander has also become a regular in his life. He’s happy.

And then just like all things for Draco Malfoy. His happy perfect bubble pops.

He’s sitting with an open potions journal, working on a new potion lead, his satchel at his feet. It’s raining again, clouds dark in the sky. The door to the plant shop is thrown open and James comes staggering through leaving puddles in his wake. He throws himself into a chair, tipping his head back taking deep bracing breaths.

Luna and Neville poke their heads in from the kitchen at the noise. “Oh my!” Luna exclaims. “I’ll get some tea. Neville dear, find something in the back for him.”

She disappears and Draco blinks several times. He notices a bruise high on James’ cheek bone, and a few scrapes along his forearms. He snaps out of his trance and picks up his satchel. “Here, let me help. Nev,” The brunette appears at his side and Draco furrows his brows together. “Can you get petals from the Warm and Cool Safflinas from the back we’ve been breeding and crush them into a salve? Mix it with some Anjelica and it should help the scrapes.” Draco kneels before James and gently grabs his face, tipping it forward to get a better view of his bruise. “Nev,” He calls again before the Gryffindor gets through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Can you also bring some Cool Safflina by itself. It should help with the swelling.”

“Sure thing, Draco!” Neville disappears and Draco dips his arm into his satchel searching for the ingredients he’s looking for.

He huffs in frustration as he starts pulling out the contents of his bag. His quick quills, empty potion bottles, experimental ingredients, clippings from Neville’s plants, a few of Luna’s home tea bags…

“You’ve uh-,” He flicks his gaze up and sees James lull his head forward, tracking Draco’s movement. “You’ve got a lot in your bag.” His voice is hoarse and he takes a deep breath.

Draco lets out a quiet laugh. “Yes, well I learned it from ah… well it’s just a charm.” He thinks back to the articles he managed to read about the Golden Trio searching for the horcruxes before swearing off the Daily Prophet completely. “Aha!” He dips into his bag pulling out an antiseptic potion and dabbing it onto a small cloth. He stands to full height, cloth in his hand, he shifts uncomfortably. “Ah – um – well do you mind removing your shirt? I need to assess the extent of your injuries.”

James licks his dry, cracked lips, “Right.” He murmurs.

Draco continues to search his bag for bandages, blushing lightly when he hears the stranger taking off his worn flannel and gray t-shirt. He clicks his gaze up and holds in a gasp because of course this stranger is tan, and gorgeous and – Merlin, are those fucking abs?

Focus Draco, focus.

He clears his throat. “Alright, then. This may sting a bit.” He steps forward and gently runs the cloth along James’ scrapes. The raven winces slightly causing Draco to mutter a quiet apology. He shifts uncomfortably before stepping forward and dabbing the cut above the eye gently. The blonde moves slightly and stumbles over the James’ foot, letting out a noise of surprise.

“Whoa, hey. Careful, Malfoy.” He grips the blonde tightly by his bicep, the other hand snaking around his waist. Draco’s hands dart forward and he braces himself on James’ shoulder. James lets out a small noise, that Draco assumes is pain and he lifts his hands off his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes.

James laughs and shakes his head. “No, no I’m sorry.” He slowly withdraws his grip, allowing Draco to continue dabbing at his eyebrow. The blonde flares up, cheeks turning pink as he keeps his place between the older man’s legs.

He clears his throat. “Right. Um. How did you injure yourself anyway?” Draco gently removes his thick square glasses setting them on the table.

James blinks a few times to adjust his sight. “Sort of a combination of things if I’m honest. Took a nasty fall off a broom recently, and well – I may have gotten in a bar fight a bit ago.” He rubs the back of his neck shyly. “I also might be – might be slightly drunk still.” He hiccups slightly and his eyes glaze over a bit. He clears his throat. “I kinda always come here when I get in trouble.”

Draco cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?” He tabs gently almost satisfied with his care of the wound. “How did you meet Neville and Luna?”

James goes oddly silent and he shifts in his seat under Draco’s scrutiny. “Met them in school.”

Draco freezes, his heart rate is picking up because if that were true then Draco should remember him. “What did you say your last name was?”

James frowns. “I didn’t.”

Draco bends down and places a bandage over the cut. “Okay then… what was your bar fight about?”

The raven turns away. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

Draco dabs at a few bruises and cuts on his ribs. “Forgive me.” He scowls. “I’m not trusting of others.”

James scoffs. “This coming from the Ex Death Eater?” Draco bristles and turns away, arms deep in his satchel because – fuck this guy, he’s definitely not someone they went to school with.

Neville appears a moment later. “I’ve got the stuff.”

Draco pulls out a shimmering liquid, eyes flaring and wand in his right hand. “Hey, Nev?” He starts casually. “Stop.” The shopkeeper stands rigid on the other side of the counter.

“Um. Draco, what’s going on-,”

“This guy isn’t who he says he is.” He keeps his eyes trained on a pair of sea green ones. “I don’t know who you think he is, Nev, but he’s playing you.” He distantly hears Luna exit the kitchen and make her way through the tea shop. “He’s got some kind of magic or charm over him.”

James puts his hands up in a surrender. His eyes flick down to the vile in Draco’s hand. “What’s that?”

He smirks, eyes cocky. “It’s a concoction of mine – taken from what they have in the caves at Gringotts to dispel any enchantments and charms. I recreated a cheaper, easier – more portable version of it.”

He sees the raven’s Adam’s apple bob. “Malfoy-” He warns.

Draco glances away before uncorking the bottle with his thumb and tossing its contents over the stranger in front of him. He takes several steps away from James, wand still clutched in his other hand. It’s slow, but unmistakable. Sitting in front of him, ten years younger, with just a stubble of facial hair a barely visible lightning bolt scar on his forehead poking through a nest of unruly hair – is Harry fucking Potter.

The vile drops from Draco’s hand and the glass shatters as it hits the floor. “Wh-what the fuck-,”

“Malfoy, I can explain.” Potter rises slowly, hands out like he’s talking to a caged animal and distantly Draco thinks that’s exactly how he feels. He knows he’s standing there, eyes wide and mouth open like a fucking trout, but he can’t send the brain waves to make himself move. “Sometimes I just use an aging potion to walk around Diagon Alley freely. I just don’t want the attention right now-,”

Something inside him clicks and his jaw snaps shut, and he glares. “Oh no, poor fucking center of attention Chosen One.” He grips his wand tighter. “It must be so miserable having people adore you.”

“Draco,” Neville’s hands are out as well, eyes glancing at the wand in Draco’s hand. “It’s hard to explain-,”

“And you knew?” Draco takes a step back and stuffs his wand in a holder strapped to his thigh. “You knew and you didn’t say anything?” Draco feels a piece of his insides crack. He trusted Neville. He shifts his gaze to Luna and sees the same guilty expression in her face. He looks around at them. “I – I trusted you…” He whispers.

“Draco-,”

“No!” He turns away, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. “You – you lied to me.” He swallows a lump in his throat. “Had a good laugh, have you?” He snaps.

He hears Luna shift behind him. “Draco, it’s not like that-,”

“Stop.” He clenches his fists at his sides and takes a deep breath. “Don’t follow me.” He leaves the tea shop, slamming the door behind him and apparates the moment he feels the pavement.


	4. Chapter 4

For almost four months he avoids everyone around him. He stays at the manor, ordering food and supplies by owl service. He blocks the floo network so no one can enter his home. He figures if the ministry needs something then they’ll send a fucking auror to break his barrier.

He also takes the time to build a defense around his home, turning it unplottable and untraceable. If anyone tries to apparate to his home, they’ll apparate to an empty field six miles away.

By the end of his fourth month, there’s a stack of letters on the mat at the front door from Pansy, Blaise, Luna, Neville and even one that he suspects might be from Potter.

He’ll probably just burn that one.

He toes the stack of letters apprehensively before darting out of the entryway.

That’s a problem for another time. He steps into the kitchen and blanches. It’s almost like he’s seeing the mess through clearer eyes. There are broken objects all over the kitchen with the Malfoy Family Crest on them. He doesn’t remember breaking them per say, but he _does_ remember getting into a fit of rage when he arrived home from the tea shop.

He’s barefoot and he figures it’s slightly dangerous, but he hasn’t slept much in… well four months… and he needs some fucking coffee. He’s got a blanket wrapped around his bare torso, his sweat pants hanging loosely on his hips which – definitely fit him a few months ago…

He waves his wand, starting his coffee when there’s a knock on his door. He flounders slightly because – well he’s got disillusionment charms, an unplottable spell… how could anyone find this place?

Unless –

His heart hammers against his chest. Unless it’s a ministry employee. They probably have something that keeps the Malfoy Manor on their radar or – a powerful auror – oh Merlin dammit, if it’s Potter. The knocking grows in volume and Draco wraps the blanket tightly around himself, gripping it at his collarbones with one hand and brandishing his wand in the other. He tip toes carefully to the front door and stops in front of the pile of letters. The knocking is loud and echoes ominously in the empty entryway.

If he’s going to be taken down – he’s not going without a fight.

3…2…1…

He opens the door with a spell causing the person on the other side to tumble back. He takes a step forward, one foot on the pile of letters and peeks out the door.

Samuel Scamander’s legs are nearly over his head and he looks upside down up at Draco, a wince on his face. “Ow, I guess maybe I should have let you know it was me.”

“Shit!” Draco drops his blanket and carefully navigates the cold stone walkway, the autumn air biting at his bare skin. Sam rights himself and Draco reaches out a hand, heaving him up on his feet. “I-I’m sorry about that. But – err -,” He takes a step back and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “How did you find me?”

Sam steps to the side, revealing a thestral with big white blank eyes blinking around at the albino peacocks. Distantly, Draco hopes the damn thing tries to eat them. “Funny thing about thestrals.” Sam appears in his view again. “They have a bloody brilliant sense of direction. Mind of we step inside?” He gestures to the open door. “I’m cold and I’m sure you’re -,” He gestures to Draco’s bare chest.

Draco blushes. “Oh, right. Sorry. Um – come in I guess. Um, sorry about the letters. Just step over them – or on them – it doesn’t matter.” Sam closes the door behind him and glances around. “Um. I just put on coffee, would you like some?”

Sam follows him into the kitchen. “Coffee would be nice.” He stops at the broken table. “Oh my!”

Draco shrugs and navigates through broken glass. “Yeah…” He doesn’t entirely know what to say, but he’s a little ashamed of the state of his kitchen.

Sam pulls out a wand. “Fancy a bit of help putting it back together?” Without waiting for a response, he begins putting things back together while Draco turns away shamefully, instead focusing on the coffee maker. He hears the clinks and clatters as things in the kitchen begin piecing themselves back together.

Fuck, he wishes there was a spell that would fucking do that for him.

“So – um – how did,” He clears his throat and tries his best to sound as nonchalant as he can. “Why did you find me anyway?” The table thuds back together and Draco pours coffee into two black mugs, setting them on the table. He turns away to retrieve cream and sugar. “Did Pansy send you? Or maybe Luna?”

He sets the supplies on the table and takes a seat on far end and uses magic to drag his cup of coffee in front of him, adding generous amounts of cream and sugar. He’s got a sweet tooth, he can’t help it. Sam plops himself down in the chair on the other end, and Draco knows that the long dining room table, stuffed tightly into the kitchen is slightly intimidating.

It’s a tactic that his father had used countless times before.

So, he’s slightly off kilter when Sam seems unphased as he reaches for the cream. “Nope. I came because I haven’t heard from you.” He stirs the coffee using magic and his bright eyes flick up at Draco’s. “No one could get to you, so I figured I’d try my hand at it. I used a threstral. I simply told him that I wanted to go to the Malfoy Manor and he found it just fine.” He takes a sip of coffee and hums thoughtfully. “Even though Luna didn’t send me, she’s still worried sick about you. In fact, she thought you may have offed yourself.” Draco nearly chokes on his coffee. “Don’t worry. Pansy put her at ease and let her know that’s a coward’s way out and Slytherins aren’t cowards.”

He huffs and takes a drink of coffee. “Damn straight.”

There’s a long moment of silence and finally Sam shifts, leaning forward. “So, care to explain what happened?”

“Hm?” Draco feigns ignorance and taps at his mug with his index finger.

“Draco.” Sam’s tone is firm. “You’ve been gone for four months and have _literally_ cut yourself off from everyone.” He opens his mouth to retort but Sam ploughs on. “I saw the stack of letters, mate. I know that you haven’t been talking to anyone. Also, you’re already so skinny – I know that if Luna saw you she would burst into tears. You’ve lost at least fifteen pounds, Draco… and you didn’t have fifteen pounds to lose.” He chugs the last of his coffee and pushes out his chair. “So, here’s what’s going to happen.” He tucks his chair and dusts off his shirt. “You’re going to take a shower because let’s face it mate – you reek,” Draco blushes. “I’m going to clean up your house and sort your mail. While you’re answering letters, I’ll be making you breakfast. After that we can talk about what happened back at the tea shop.”

“I – you can’t -,”

“Draco.” Sam’s tone is firm. “It’s this or I call Pansy and Theo.”

The blonde swallows thickly. “Got it.”

**-[]-**

He takes a long shower, letting the water relax his tense muscles and warm his pale skin. He gets a generous amount of shampoo in his palm and uses his fingertips to scrub it through his hair. In the four months that he hasn’t been out he’s let it get too long. His hair rests a little passed his shoulders and he immediately wants to get it cut to avoid resembling anything like his father. He finishes his shower, takes the time to shave the stubble from his face and he puts on a fresh pair of black joggers a plain white tee and wooly socks to avoid the cold hard wooden floors. He uses his wand to blow dry his hair and ties it up into a messy bun.

There’s a wonderful smell wafting in from the kitchen as Sam waves his wand, frying up potatoes. There are six stacks of letterss on the table – a daunting amount of mail, Draco realizes. “Oh good, you’re back.” He turns his back and continues at the stove. “I did a lap around the place, you know a lot of these doors won’t open.”

Draco takes a seat at the table and shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, I know. That was my doing.”

Sam doesn’t question it. “Well, all the rooms I managed to get to, I used some cleaning spells on. The place is clean, your refrigerator has been restocked and I’ve organized the letters for you.”

Draco frowns and lays on his arms on the table. “Merlin, how long was I gone for.”

Sam shrugs. “Forty-five minutes.” He points to the letters with his wand. “I’d start answering those, and then we can talk about lifting all these charms around the place.”

He pokes a bit at the letters. One stack are clearly from Syltherins – Blaise, Pansy, Nott. The other stack he recognizes Luna’s loopy letters and Neville’s chicken scratch. The third are some new potions orders that he’s ignored. The fourth are a set of bills, the fifth a few letters from the ministry – fuck he might be in trouble, and the sixth is one lone letter in the same handwriting as the one he found with his wand all those years ago and – yup, he’s ignoring that one.

The letters from the Slytherins are pretty much the same. First threatening, then concerned and then desperate. He’ll handle those in a second. Luna and Neville’s letters are much longer and more heartfelt, and immediately filled with concern. They’re both so worried and Draco can’t help the niggle of guilt in the pit of his stomach because he understands that they were just protecting Potter, the way they were protecting him… He sighs. Damn did he really fuck up. He thumbs through the mail potion orders, and hopes that he’s able to save face with some of these customers. These he begins responding to, quickly – his home order apothecary is relatively new and he’s hoping he hasn’t started on the wrong foot. He sifts through the bill, putting the galleons in small bags to send to the proper places and he’s about to start on the ministry letters when a plate of food is dropped in front of him.

“Here you are, Draco.” Sam sits in the same seat he was in before. “Eat up, and you can finish your letters after. Now,” He takes a big bite of his omelet. “Let’s talk about what happened. Start from the beginning.”

So, Draco tells him everything.

**-[]-**

Sam is blinking owlishly at him. “So, you were on the wrong side of the war.” He shrugs. “BFG. You’re a different person now.” He stands to his feet. “And I’m not quite sure why you were so angry about Harry Potter. I mean I understand you guys hated each other growing up, but it’s been almost four years now. It’s time to let go, don’t you think?”

Draco realizes that this may be a new low for him so he throws himself on the table dramatically. “You don’t _understand,_ Sam.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Potter is – is – _infuriating._ ” He stands up and starts pacing the room. “He’s the perfect little golden boy. He never does a fucking thing wrong. His life is perfect. He works for the ministry, he’s got plenty of people fawning over him, he’s just so fucking perfect.” He snorts. “It’s impossible to live up to.”

Sam waves his wand to wash the dishes they’ve used and put them away before he sits down in his seat. “Why do you feel the need to live up to Harry Potter?”

Draco stops. “It’s not like that. It’s not – I don’t -,” He huffs. “I don’t know.” He drops himself in his chair again. “I-I think I’m still bitter.” He thinks back on the first day on the train he reached his hand out to introduce himself to Harry, thinks about that feeling of rejection…

His whole life he wasn’t good enough for his father… to not be good enough for the famous Harry Potter…

“Draco?”

“I just feel so fucking far behind.” He drops his forehead to the table. “Everyone has all their shit figured out. They have jobs, are starting families, and I’m over here – and I’m just – existing in this old creepy manor with half the rooms boarded up, wondering who the fuck I even am anymore.”

“Is that what success is to you?” He lifts his head up and sees Samuel with his elbows on the table, his hands laced together. “A good job, a family, friends…”

Draco runs a hand through his hair, gripping tightly. “Yeah, I mean I guess…”

Samuel frowns. “Let’s make a list.” He unlaces his hands together and waves his wand putting a parchment and a quill in front of Draco. “You want to make some changes, right? So let’s list them.”

Draco shifts uncomfortably and stares down at the empty parchment. He wants to be better, wants to be successful, wants to restore the Malfoy name… He wants to a better version of himself. On the top of his list he scratches out:

_Always Be A First Rate Version of Yourself_

He taps his quill feather on the table in front of him. What does a first rate version of Draco Malfoy mean? He remembers what it meant to this father – marry a pureblood, work at the ministry, play for a quidditch team…

But what does it mean to Draco? Well he would like a successful potions job.

  1. Become a potion master.



He looks down at his lap and sees protruding hip bones. He really is too skinny…

  1. Get back into shape



His curtain of hair falls in front of his face.

  1. Cut is hair.



Even though he’s trapped in the manor, he figures he’ll have to make it more homey, right?

  1. Make a home



He thinks about those quiet moments where Neville tucks a loose strand of hair behind Luna’s ear and presses a soft kiss to her temple.

  1. Fall in love



He stares at his list. It’s only five things, but… it’s more than what he had ten minutes ago. Sam must sense his mood because the Hufflepuff shoots him a big grin. “Feel better?”

Draco nods. “I do.” He frowns at the daunting letters in front of him. Sam drops a hand on his shoulder and gives him a tight squeeze.

“You can do this, Draco. I’m going to head off to the ministry now. Check in with me soon, okay?” He smiles brightly and leaves through the front door.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just love the idea of Neville and Draco being friends and lowkey kind of being besties. Draco was such an a-hole to Neville I think he deserves some redemption. 
> 
> Please review and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Also if you're just coping badly with being stuck at home - review and let's talk about it some more. I feel you.


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